Right.
So remember how I said its a good idea to take a train to Ninasam because it gives you the overnight time to switch gears, cultures, and slowly go into a mode where you're ready to spend 25 days in a village, eating vegetarian food (differently cut squash mostly), and living at that general pace of life?
Well. For some reason I've decided that in order to go back to civilization and urbanity, the only way to do that is fast injection. Therefore, the 4 and a half hour drive to Mangalore airport (thank god it was in Gods own vehicular gift to India - the ambassador - which is basically two 3 seater sofa's on wheels with great suspension. I got to sleep or semi-sleep across the back one from 3.30 am till 8am. Now, I'm here at Mangalore airport, (first time out of heggodu in 3 weeks) with all sorts of cosmopolitain looking people, advertising hoardings, announcments, people, people, and more people (first time in three weeks). There's a machine here that wraps bags in plastic, in front of the row of cushioned chairs (first time in 3 weeks) and it seems like such an INSANELY profligate waste that I'm actually feeling offended by it, and look rather rudely at each person.
Its also the first time in three weeks that more than 3 people in the immediate vicinity speak english (But I want to speak my 5 words of Kannada!! WHY ARE YOU SPEAKING TO ME IN ENGLISH!!!!???!!!)
There's a shop in the airport selling books, there's a shop in the airport offerring me nice dress shirts to buy. What am I going to do with those? Oh, and row upon row upon row of soft drinks. Sprite, Coke, Red Bull (I know I've heard of these before).
Whats going to happen to me when I hit Bombay? I suppose this won't last too long. It better not, given that I've created a compay that insists that one can have an intense level of theatre practice INSPITE of being in bombay. A center of advanced stage capitalism running wild. (No, I'm not a commie - and any of you who decide to lable me lefty or whatever it is you did the last time I did one of these sojurns - you're not listening, and you're prejudging and this time I will smack you silly if you even try to put me in a conceptual box of ANY kind). But its interesting to see what people actually NEED to get by, or to get by and live enriching lives. Suddenly, everything that is being sold in this airport has an element that seems totally unneccesary and unproductive. Ah.. i'm not going to do this, everytime I do, I get told I'm ranting, and they all laugh and wait for me to reacclimatize to city life which is invariably - what happens. But I'd like to keep some of this perspective with me this time, and not loose it. I don't think I can preach it, but it'd be silly for all my friends to not try it out, at least once. (no, not direct a play in a village, but something similar.
I mean, the village of heggodu is one of the most cosmopolitain thinking villages I've ever seen, all because it has a theatre and cultural center that brings excellence - and sometimes not so much excellence - from all over the place. Where else do you see an amazing Japanese actress - highly trained in the suzuki method, come in, and enthrall an audience of kannada speaking arecanut farmers, with a play that was devised around a malayalam temple festival and the elephants that are involved?). What we really NEED rather than what we all are made to WANT.
On the way down here I kept dreaming of various changes I should think of making to the play, and one of the things that keeps hitting me, is this play - can never be done in English. Ever. Nothing of what it says would remain in that translation. I've been thinking of solutions to this, but so far none have come, and everyone that presents itself simply oversimplifies the issues in the play too much. Irony? A play about the hegemony of sanskrit, never being able to be done in the new sanskrit?
I think this play is going to be screaming new layers at me for a long while. So you can expect this blog to go on for a little while longer.
Will post pictures and video as soon as I can get back to better technology infrastructure in Bombay. (Yes, yes, I know. I know, but that doesn't vindicate you from thinking about what I've said.)
Monday, December 22, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Comedown.
Comedown.
Right. So now I'm still at Ninasam - attending a management workshop for the arts that Ninasam is hosting, They're looking at giving artists/arts organisations the concepts and vocabulary (all a bit vague to start out with, but i'm sure once its in thier subconciousness, helpful) to organize and manage themselves more effectively.
The night the play finished was great, I just went into relaxed jelly mode.
I attended day one of the workshop - switched gears, did it suprisingly seamlessly, and it helped me remember all the long term theatre to-do items I have on my list.Second day, I started feedback work with the students from 7am to 9am.
Then, went to attend the workshop. I just couldn't get into it. I found myself listless, un motivated. Went around the campus in the early afternoon and hunted down the students who i found out were doing nothing because of the workshop, and took a class with them. Still have to crack one or two more skulls before I leave here on Monday (Yes, monday people, I fly back to bombay).
But now, its midnight, and I have spent the whole evening absolutely exhausted. I can feel a comedown - like all the energy has been sapped from me.
I have some more feedback to give tomorrow. Have had many good discussions about the content of the play, and the way I've chosen to stage things, or the aspects of the story (and it turns out i've succeeded at planting the seed of an onion with many layers). But I have to now let it grow - so its going to gestate in my head for a while.
One of the things the play did, was to really prompt debate around the question of what would possess Gunadhaya to destroy his work. Many ideas have come up around that: the dichotomy of the court culture vs. the tribals in the forest, the culture of knowledge organisation and management that bhramins (I believe esp. bhramins from the south) practice, though in opposition to that, it has pointed out by the wonderful classical sanskrit and kannada trained Smartha (kota) Bhramin who gave the play its final dialogue - (remember I said it was being done fastidiously and with great deliberation?) that indeed, Vyasa, Kalidasa, Gunadhaya, none of these historical literary giants were bhramin. So for eg. if I were to use his Bhramin way of thinking, that the collecting of knowledge is the be all and end all, the very essence of his life, then it helps build a case for why he burns the stories at the end. But my version of the play also seeks to 'de-arayanize' (yes I know this term has inherent problems), the story as it is in the Katha Pitha, so having him be a bhramin goes against that. Since it is highly likely that he wasn't one.
Anyhow many thoughts, many exhaustions. So I sleep. Wake up at 7 on sunday morning to keep going with the students and their feedback.
Goodnight.
Right. So now I'm still at Ninasam - attending a management workshop for the arts that Ninasam is hosting, They're looking at giving artists/arts organisations the concepts and vocabulary (all a bit vague to start out with, but i'm sure once its in thier subconciousness, helpful) to organize and manage themselves more effectively.
The night the play finished was great, I just went into relaxed jelly mode.
I attended day one of the workshop - switched gears, did it suprisingly seamlessly, and it helped me remember all the long term theatre to-do items I have on my list.Second day, I started feedback work with the students from 7am to 9am.
Then, went to attend the workshop. I just couldn't get into it. I found myself listless, un motivated. Went around the campus in the early afternoon and hunted down the students who i found out were doing nothing because of the workshop, and took a class with them. Still have to crack one or two more skulls before I leave here on Monday (Yes, monday people, I fly back to bombay).
But now, its midnight, and I have spent the whole evening absolutely exhausted. I can feel a comedown - like all the energy has been sapped from me.
I have some more feedback to give tomorrow. Have had many good discussions about the content of the play, and the way I've chosen to stage things, or the aspects of the story (and it turns out i've succeeded at planting the seed of an onion with many layers). But I have to now let it grow - so its going to gestate in my head for a while.
One of the things the play did, was to really prompt debate around the question of what would possess Gunadhaya to destroy his work. Many ideas have come up around that: the dichotomy of the court culture vs. the tribals in the forest, the culture of knowledge organisation and management that bhramins (I believe esp. bhramins from the south) practice, though in opposition to that, it has pointed out by the wonderful classical sanskrit and kannada trained Smartha (kota) Bhramin who gave the play its final dialogue - (remember I said it was being done fastidiously and with great deliberation?) that indeed, Vyasa, Kalidasa, Gunadhaya, none of these historical literary giants were bhramin. So for eg. if I were to use his Bhramin way of thinking, that the collecting of knowledge is the be all and end all, the very essence of his life, then it helps build a case for why he burns the stories at the end. But my version of the play also seeks to 'de-arayanize' (yes I know this term has inherent problems), the story as it is in the Katha Pitha, so having him be a bhramin goes against that. Since it is highly likely that he wasn't one.
Anyhow many thoughts, many exhaustions. So I sleep. Wake up at 7 on sunday morning to keep going with the students and their feedback.
Goodnight.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Second Day. Better Play.
Second day. Better Play.
Well, turns out I had no reason to be terrified. What I did need to do, was learn one more simple thing. How to part ways with the cast as a director. (No, not some kind of "that was crap! I abdicate!").
They came back rested, and at 10 we started a class sitting outside under sunny skies, in the dappled shade of a few arecanut trees in front of the theatre, and we discussed a concept that I really wasn't sure I could explain to them. As in, its something you have to experience, not talk about.
It was that of energy. Keeping the energy on stage crackling, the tension between actors alive, there is always something, some kind of energy that exists between actors in a performance. (when its good, and they aren't just zombies giving thier lines on cue).
So after a rather long discourse on how to keep the energy up, how it changes hands, how the focus of energy shifts, how you can add energy, how you never take energy away, but just hold on to it, change its quality, and give it back into the scene (or your next entrance).
At exactly that point, everyone was focused on what I was saying, and suddenly, behind us, a crow sat on the insulation earthing point of an electricity crow, and the resulting blzzzttthhhttt sound (rubbish approximiation) and all of us, in one millisecond, turned to look. Some got up and ran to see because I think a child had seen it and screamed out in fright, so we thought the worst had happenned.
After realising it was fine, everyone came back with an its fine, no no , just all right, and sat down again.
I love how these moments just seem to happen at the right time - a lot of the time. It was a perfect example of what i was talking about. Thier energy was focused on me... and then it was focused on a single point outside, so strongly that some ran to give that moment attention, then they took that energy that had heightened, and each brought back a piece of it to the circle in a different form... no no, its ok, nothing happened, I didn't even see the crow, that gave me a fright, and they all settled in and discussed it with each other and then as I stood thier (waiting dictatorially) for them to return thier attention, they did.
So I basically explained that whole sequence of what happenned with that energy to them, and they so got it.
We reblocked the major group scene where Gunadhaya is foiled by Sarvavarman in the court, then ran it with them keeping an awareness of the energy, and how we were looking for an electricity between the two, that was added to, in different ways by the other charachters play around them. They saw it.
Then lunch, then return, and did a small exercise based on what Michael Chekov uses called Staccato Legato. I use it a a great all around skill reviewing exercise. It takes a series of 6 simple movements - of giving energy (in one sense) to the left, right, forward, backward, up and down. They have to do the movements repeatedly, in cycles of 2 slow, 2 fast, 1 slow, 1 fast, keeping a complete concentration on going from a zero state in the center each time, to 100 percent. The entire movement controlled. But all the energy channelized in on eof the six directions. Eventually after they got the movement, and the idea of total concentration in the movement, we did the cycles, and then the last one. which is one of each cycle but only inside thier bodies and heads. To just have a memory and a total impulse to move in each of the directions, inside them while standing still.
The afternoon session we fixed the ending to work smoother, I worked with Arun (our musician and percussionist) to provide a score that kept the energy up rather than slowed it down... yesterday that was a small part of the problem. Then I let them go.
They assembled at six. I ensured that thier principal was sitting in the auditorium somewhere 'corner of thier eye visible', and then put a bit of a fear into them.
"Today, is a test. Its the day you decide whether you are students at a theatre school, and want to remain that, or if you want to be a professional company of actors."
Was the basic upshot of the talk - I told them this was the last time I was talking to them as their teacher. I would maybe do a bit of touch up work with them and leave them alone. Arun would lead thier warm up and prayer, and I would be done in exactly 10 minutes. I ran the opening scene, touched it up and removed a few things that I thought slowed its tempo and took away from the establishment of the story, and then ran it, and let them go one or two individual notes to actors, that had to do with music cues, and then I was gone.
Last night - thier performances were nothing short of brilliant. Brilliant.
I was thrilled. I actually could sit back and WATCH the play. Enjoy it. Laugh, and be an audience member. And we recorded it! (though i looked a ta bit of the recording last night.. and I tell you... its just never the same... i have looked at any taping of a show of mine in the past. and now i know why.. the beauty lies in its ephemerality, that one performance.. done.. gone.. and to the next... )
But we sat down after the play.... Just so I could give them a shawl each - which I did, and thank them. But really they came in eyes bright from a really great performance, and a strong feeling of what it was like to really nail it.
You see what that felt like?
Was it not brilliant?
Now do you see the reward for all this work and pressure I've put you through?
THIS is what its like to do theatre.
THIS is why we work our butts off, for this moment, for THIS feeling. Is it not the sweetest thing you've ever felt?
Much approval.
And I? I ate, lay down in bed, and felt every milligram of tension of the last 3 weeks just dissipate from my body as I just turned into one relaxed puddle of happy jelly.
*ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...............................*
Well, turns out I had no reason to be terrified. What I did need to do, was learn one more simple thing. How to part ways with the cast as a director. (No, not some kind of "that was crap! I abdicate!").
They came back rested, and at 10 we started a class sitting outside under sunny skies, in the dappled shade of a few arecanut trees in front of the theatre, and we discussed a concept that I really wasn't sure I could explain to them. As in, its something you have to experience, not talk about.
It was that of energy. Keeping the energy on stage crackling, the tension between actors alive, there is always something, some kind of energy that exists between actors in a performance. (when its good, and they aren't just zombies giving thier lines on cue).
So after a rather long discourse on how to keep the energy up, how it changes hands, how the focus of energy shifts, how you can add energy, how you never take energy away, but just hold on to it, change its quality, and give it back into the scene (or your next entrance).
At exactly that point, everyone was focused on what I was saying, and suddenly, behind us, a crow sat on the insulation earthing point of an electricity crow, and the resulting blzzzttthhhttt sound (rubbish approximiation) and all of us, in one millisecond, turned to look. Some got up and ran to see because I think a child had seen it and screamed out in fright, so we thought the worst had happenned.
After realising it was fine, everyone came back with an its fine, no no , just all right, and sat down again.
I love how these moments just seem to happen at the right time - a lot of the time. It was a perfect example of what i was talking about. Thier energy was focused on me... and then it was focused on a single point outside, so strongly that some ran to give that moment attention, then they took that energy that had heightened, and each brought back a piece of it to the circle in a different form... no no, its ok, nothing happened, I didn't even see the crow, that gave me a fright, and they all settled in and discussed it with each other and then as I stood thier (waiting dictatorially) for them to return thier attention, they did.
So I basically explained that whole sequence of what happenned with that energy to them, and they so got it.
We reblocked the major group scene where Gunadhaya is foiled by Sarvavarman in the court, then ran it with them keeping an awareness of the energy, and how we were looking for an electricity between the two, that was added to, in different ways by the other charachters play around them. They saw it.
Then lunch, then return, and did a small exercise based on what Michael Chekov uses called Staccato Legato. I use it a a great all around skill reviewing exercise. It takes a series of 6 simple movements - of giving energy (in one sense) to the left, right, forward, backward, up and down. They have to do the movements repeatedly, in cycles of 2 slow, 2 fast, 1 slow, 1 fast, keeping a complete concentration on going from a zero state in the center each time, to 100 percent. The entire movement controlled. But all the energy channelized in on eof the six directions. Eventually after they got the movement, and the idea of total concentration in the movement, we did the cycles, and then the last one. which is one of each cycle but only inside thier bodies and heads. To just have a memory and a total impulse to move in each of the directions, inside them while standing still.
The afternoon session we fixed the ending to work smoother, I worked with Arun (our musician and percussionist) to provide a score that kept the energy up rather than slowed it down... yesterday that was a small part of the problem. Then I let them go.
They assembled at six. I ensured that thier principal was sitting in the auditorium somewhere 'corner of thier eye visible', and then put a bit of a fear into them.
"Today, is a test. Its the day you decide whether you are students at a theatre school, and want to remain that, or if you want to be a professional company of actors."
Was the basic upshot of the talk - I told them this was the last time I was talking to them as their teacher. I would maybe do a bit of touch up work with them and leave them alone. Arun would lead thier warm up and prayer, and I would be done in exactly 10 minutes. I ran the opening scene, touched it up and removed a few things that I thought slowed its tempo and took away from the establishment of the story, and then ran it, and let them go one or two individual notes to actors, that had to do with music cues, and then I was gone.
Last night - thier performances were nothing short of brilliant. Brilliant.
I was thrilled. I actually could sit back and WATCH the play. Enjoy it. Laugh, and be an audience member. And we recorded it! (though i looked a ta bit of the recording last night.. and I tell you... its just never the same... i have looked at any taping of a show of mine in the past. and now i know why.. the beauty lies in its ephemerality, that one performance.. done.. gone.. and to the next... )
But we sat down after the play.... Just so I could give them a shawl each - which I did, and thank them. But really they came in eyes bright from a really great performance, and a strong feeling of what it was like to really nail it.
You see what that felt like?
Was it not brilliant?
Now do you see the reward for all this work and pressure I've put you through?
THIS is what its like to do theatre.
THIS is why we work our butts off, for this moment, for THIS feeling. Is it not the sweetest thing you've ever felt?
Much approval.
And I? I ate, lay down in bed, and felt every milligram of tension of the last 3 weeks just dissipate from my body as I just turned into one relaxed puddle of happy jelly.
*ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...............................*
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
And the show goes on....
Well... that went well.
Its 11pm. I'm exhausted. Let me tell you why.
We had our technical dress run this morning - at 7am for the first act, and for the second act from 10 - 12.30. Then the students had to disband so that they could move out of thier rooms into a dormitory style accomodation in the school next door ( in order to make room for incoming Theatre people from across the country who are coming to Ninasam for a Theatre Management Conference this week)
Then they had lunch, and worked with me from 3 for about an hour. Then I thought I'd make things easy for them, and just let them sit and do a line run of the whole play. Which took them 2 hours (not good, I thought to myself - we're now at 5.30. They needed to have tea, come back, prepare for the play and do a warm up and hit the stage for a 7.15 performance.
The play - it went well. They pretty much did everything I had asked them to as a director, and in some cases more, and in general it was a strong set of performances with moments that dwindled in and out, but it lasted 2 hours! (Its supposed to be 2 acts of 40 minutes each - maximum). I was sitting in the back watching the audience (who were not responsive) thinking - oh boy.
Personally, I was at a loss. I couldn't figure out what it was that was wrong, why was everything dragging. The scenes were clear, the actions were clear, the actors gave themselves to it. They were doing everything right.
I was hit with a silent little terror because when I thought to myself, what do I to make this work better, to have the scenes run with a flow, a sense of strong forward motion, yet with time for the audience - there was no balance to be found.
(remember me worrying earlier about the play not taking a moment to breath earlier, and just rushing to the end. Well in this case, it was like watching a patient on a very slow life support respirator.)
I was stumped. I had no answer. What do I do as a director to get the flow right? To get the overall pacing right? The answer was not in the small details, it had to be an over all directors note, or an exercise we could go through - to make it work better. I had no answer!
Terror. Have I reached my limit? Is this where I fail? At the last step, they were the ones who were going to ask me 'what can we do better?' and I had no answer.
So after the run (which was beautiful, and told a story - though it was utterly slow) we sat down in our circle, and I asked them, what were your observations...
And the actor playing Sarvavarman, someone who does it well, and has really risen to the challenges I have given him - said... I couldn't find 10 minutes of continuous energy or concentration in me.
And I thought to myself - Jehan, you're really the stupidest idiot on the planet. It is 9.50pm. They've been at it for 14 hours straight. Of course they're going to give all they have, but I'd already taken it all away from them before the run.
So, giving them solace in the fact that they have come a long way since we began, and being very proud of them for the fact that at the end of 14 hours they were all still THERE, standing, (sittting actually) and alive.
I told them while it was my fault that they had run 14 hours straight. It was a good thing. Cause they're all stronger for it.
Still think I was a jackass. Tomorrow, we start at 10am. Its going to be a light day, full of interesting learing exercises, and plenty of time for them to rest before the show.
And it'll be a good show. I can feel it in my bones.
------
On another note, I just realised - today, that I've written my first play.
:-)
------
Its 11pm. I'm exhausted. Let me tell you why.
We had our technical dress run this morning - at 7am for the first act, and for the second act from 10 - 12.30. Then the students had to disband so that they could move out of thier rooms into a dormitory style accomodation in the school next door ( in order to make room for incoming Theatre people from across the country who are coming to Ninasam for a Theatre Management Conference this week)
Then they had lunch, and worked with me from 3 for about an hour. Then I thought I'd make things easy for them, and just let them sit and do a line run of the whole play. Which took them 2 hours (not good, I thought to myself - we're now at 5.30. They needed to have tea, come back, prepare for the play and do a warm up and hit the stage for a 7.15 performance.
The play - it went well. They pretty much did everything I had asked them to as a director, and in some cases more, and in general it was a strong set of performances with moments that dwindled in and out, but it lasted 2 hours! (Its supposed to be 2 acts of 40 minutes each - maximum). I was sitting in the back watching the audience (who were not responsive) thinking - oh boy.
Personally, I was at a loss. I couldn't figure out what it was that was wrong, why was everything dragging. The scenes were clear, the actions were clear, the actors gave themselves to it. They were doing everything right.
I was hit with a silent little terror because when I thought to myself, what do I to make this work better, to have the scenes run with a flow, a sense of strong forward motion, yet with time for the audience - there was no balance to be found.
(remember me worrying earlier about the play not taking a moment to breath earlier, and just rushing to the end. Well in this case, it was like watching a patient on a very slow life support respirator.)
I was stumped. I had no answer. What do I do as a director to get the flow right? To get the overall pacing right? The answer was not in the small details, it had to be an over all directors note, or an exercise we could go through - to make it work better. I had no answer!
Terror. Have I reached my limit? Is this where I fail? At the last step, they were the ones who were going to ask me 'what can we do better?' and I had no answer.
So after the run (which was beautiful, and told a story - though it was utterly slow) we sat down in our circle, and I asked them, what were your observations...
And the actor playing Sarvavarman, someone who does it well, and has really risen to the challenges I have given him - said... I couldn't find 10 minutes of continuous energy or concentration in me.
And I thought to myself - Jehan, you're really the stupidest idiot on the planet. It is 9.50pm. They've been at it for 14 hours straight. Of course they're going to give all they have, but I'd already taken it all away from them before the run.
So, giving them solace in the fact that they have come a long way since we began, and being very proud of them for the fact that at the end of 14 hours they were all still THERE, standing, (sittting actually) and alive.
I told them while it was my fault that they had run 14 hours straight. It was a good thing. Cause they're all stronger for it.
Still think I was a jackass. Tomorrow, we start at 10am. Its going to be a light day, full of interesting learing exercises, and plenty of time for them to rest before the show.
And it'll be a good show. I can feel it in my bones.
------
On another note, I just realised - today, that I've written my first play.
:-)
------
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
The Story of Gunadhaya Part 4.
Here you go, the fourth and final installment. With notes as to how we're treating it on stage.
Once again I reiterate - this story is an adaptation - based on the Katha Pitha Lamba in Somadeva's Katha Sarit Sagar - I use the english versions from C W Tawney's Ocean of Stories and Arshia Sattar's Kathasaritsagara. I was inspired to explore this story based on a humanistic (non-divine) retelling of the same by Mrinal Pande over coffee at the India International Center two years ago.
Looking like a tribal himself, with long matted locks, and an overgrown beard, Gunadhaya trudges back to the city of Pratishthana, the court of the great Satavahana. In this production, his hair just turns white... instantly... on stage as he runs his hands through his hair (with white paste in it) in a sort of exhaution yet satisfaction that the job has been done... after the writing of the stories.
He arrives, and after dealing with getting the guards to realise who he is, enters the court. The King welcomes him.
"Oh Gunadhaya, it is so good to see you."
Gunadhaya responds (in our play, he vows not to speak court languages for six years - not his entire life).
The kings sankrit is polished and fluent. Gunadhaya's is a bit rusty.
"And you as well Maharaja"
"Its been seven years... I suppose now that your vow of not speaking the court languages is over, you're happy to be back? We could use your wisdom amongst us here"
"Maharaja, where is the Queen?"
"She died 3 years ago."
Satavahana briefly thinks about the fact that she figured out that this was all a sham, and rarely if ever spoke to him again after Gunadhaya went into exile. Both for decieving her, and makign her loose a dear friend.
"Even though I learned Sanskrit, she just... stopped talking to me after a while. I never completely understood her. "
"But Gunadhaya, " he switches...
"Its truly good to see you. Its been a while since we've had pundits of yours and Sarvarman's calibre in our midsts."
Sarvavarman, of course, died happy and of old age, and the only pundits in the court, are his students, all of whom wield thier knowledge of sanskrit as a tool of superiority and power.
"Whats this you've brought with you. Asks Satavahana.
Pulled out of his distraught shock, of hearing about the Maharani's death. The inability to share with her these amazing stories, his work of the last seven years.. Gunadhaya answers almost mechanically...
"Oh, these, these are stories of your subjects from the hills and forests. I spent the last 7 years documenting them, and collecting them. They are said to be the stories of all these people, and of generations before them, all of whom have collected stories from across the known world. "
He has no use for them now...
"If you would like to take them and share them with the world, please do so."
"Thats impressive!" he indicates to one of his Bhramin pundits to take the seven bundles, each containing a lakh of shlokas in them. The pundit, reluctantly accepts this bundle of smelly blood soaked skin, with strange broad strokes on them...
He enquires with his colleague..
"The script seems somewhat familiar.."
"But the language....?"
Satavahana looks over thier shoulder.
"Paisachi!!"
"Sir? You know this language?!?"
"What? Huh? No. No. " And indicates to have it handed back to Gunadhaya.
Gunadhya, not surprised at the Raja's little revalation, looks at him enquiringly,
"Raja, I know you know the language... I have just spent the past seven years amongst the same tribes you grew up in. These are thier stories."
The Bhramins intercede. "Raja! The court awaits you. The pundits from the neighbouring kingdom have gathered to do discourse In Sanskrit (they emphasise to Gunadhaya) with you. We must not keep visiting dignitaries waiting. "
The Raja hesitates.
"Raja". Presses the Bhramin.
"Gunadhaya, this seems very laudible work, but we only speak Sanskrit in this court, even the other court langugages that were in use during your time are frowned upon. There's no place for something like this in our world. "
Gunadhaya takes the bundles and starts to prepare to leave. While being looked upon with utter malice and spite by the two Bhramins (who by the way were Sarvavarman's consipirators in the plan to oust Gunadhaya in this play).
"Gunadhaya" says the Raja, "Stay, we can have long conversations together, my sanskrit is very good now, you and I can debate in Sanskrit! "
The only person Gunadhaya ever enjoyed debating with in Sanskrit... is dead.
"Raja, there is no place for something like this (pointing at himself) in your world."
They part ways ... though not for the last time.
Gunadhaya returns to the forest. Realising the foolishness of his early years, and the stupid pride he had in court as a Bhramin pundit who only respected sanskrit, distraught about the fact that the person he wanted to share the stories with his long dead, and the only other person who could have read them, so easily chooses to reject such a collossal heritage. (*)
He sees the inevitability of change, and his mind, the fact that it is futile to try to share the stories of kanabhuti's people with a world that woudl not have them.
He sits at a clearing in the middle of the forest, and begins to make a fire.
Kanabhuti seeing his unhappiness... enquires...
"What happenned? how did you end up coming back so soon?"
no reply. as he silently gathers the shlokas near the fire.
"Did you get to share these stories with your friend?"
"She's not here any more."
"Oh.."
"But what are you doing?"
"I'm burning these."
"Why? This is all your work. All the stories that you said you wanted to collect. Why would you burn them?"
"Apart from me, there's no one on this planet who is able or willing to read them. None of your people can read, the concept of reading is alien to them. These shloks I have written have no place in this world."
Kanabhuti's old belief in the power of stories is reaffirmed (*)
"But you can teach my people Paisachi!"
"I am too old now... I don't think I am going to live for much longer. "
Kanabhuti concurrs...
"Stories are best told to each other, not read from a book."
"Gunadhaya! Before you burn them, at least, read them out loud to me one last time."
Gunadhaya thinks...
Then he starts to read...
As he reads each page to Kanabhuti, he then consigns it to the flames...
Slowly, as he continues to do this, story by story, the actors playing tribals (all 16 of them) who have gathered in a Kollatta dance in a circle around him, only humming the tunes of the stories... , start to dissapear in the smoke of his fire, pair by pair. Until it is only him, and Kanabhuti left... and the flames, and the smoke, and an empty stage...
(*) Both of them. This is the central reason for Gunadhaya burning the stories. Its still... - not brilliant, in my mind. He's ot a likeable protagonist given that he ended up bieng so
-------------
"What?? Cries the queen! SOMDEVA, tell me he burt all the stories!"
"Wait my Queen, I haven't finished."
-------------------
Somdeva continues to read..
(He reads the following passage from From Tawney's translation... with the bit about Shiva and Ganas as its his story to tell now...)
And while he was reading out and
burning that heavenly tale, all the deer, boars, buffaloes
and other wild animals came there, leaving their pasturage,
and formed a circle round him, listening with tears in their
eyes, unable to quit the spot.
In the meanwhile King Satavahana fell sick. And the
physicians said that his illness was due to eating meat wanting
in nutritive qualities. And when the cooks were scolded
for it they said :
" The hunters bring in to us flesh of this
kind." And when the hunters were taken to task they said :
"Ona hill not very far from here there is a Brahman reading,
who throws into a fire every leaf as soon as he has read it ; so
all the animals go there and listen, without ever grazing ; they
never wander anywhere else ; consequently this flesh of theirs
is wanting in nutritive properties on account of their going
without food." When he heard this speech of the hunters
he made them show him the way, and out of curiosity went
in person to see Gunadhya, and he beheld him, owing to his
forest life, overspread with matted locks that looked like the
smoke of the fire of his curse, that was almost extinguished
Then the king recognised him as he stood in the midst
of the weeping animals, and after he had respectfully saluted
him, he asked him for an explanation of all the circumstances.
That wise Brahman then related to the king in the
language of the demons his own history as Pushpadanta,
giving an account of the curse and all the circumstances
which originated the descent of the tale to earth. Then the
king, discovering that he was an incarnation of a Gana,
bowed at his feet, and asked him for that celestial tale that
had issued from the mouth of Siva. Then Gunadhya said
to that King Satavahana :
tc O king ! I have burnt six tales
containing six hundred thousand couplets ; but there is one
tale consisting of a hundred thousand couplets, take that,1
and these two pupils of mine shall explain it to you." So
spake Gunadhya and took leave of the king, and then by
strength of devotion laid aside his earthly body and, released
from the curse, ascended to his own heavenly home. Then the
king took that tale which Gunadhya had given, called Brihat
Kathd, containing the adventures of Naravahanadatta, and
went to his own city. And there he bestowed on Gunadeva
and Nandideva, the pupils of the poet who composed that tale,
lands, gold, garments, beasts of burden, palaces and treasures.
And having recovered the sense of that tale with their help,
Satavahana composed the book named Kathapitha, in order
to show how the tale came to be first made known in the
Paisacha language. Now that tale was so full of various
interest that men were so taken with it as to forget the tales
of the gods, and after producing that effect in the city it
attained uninterrupted renown in the three worlds."
Somdeva continues...
"Queen, (I think her name was Suryamati- no time to go back and check now.. ) I have found these documents from the court of Satavahana, from over 200 years ago, and have adapted and compiled them for your entertainment - in Sanskrit. I call this, the Kathasaritsagar"
Once again I reiterate - this story is an adaptation - based on the Katha Pitha Lamba in Somadeva's Katha Sarit Sagar - I use the english versions from C W Tawney's Ocean of Stories and Arshia Sattar's Kathasaritsagara. I was inspired to explore this story based on a humanistic (non-divine) retelling of the same by Mrinal Pande over coffee at the India International Center two years ago.
Looking like a tribal himself, with long matted locks, and an overgrown beard, Gunadhaya trudges back to the city of Pratishthana, the court of the great Satavahana. In this production, his hair just turns white... instantly... on stage as he runs his hands through his hair (with white paste in it) in a sort of exhaution yet satisfaction that the job has been done... after the writing of the stories.
He arrives, and after dealing with getting the guards to realise who he is, enters the court. The King welcomes him.
"Oh Gunadhaya, it is so good to see you."
Gunadhaya responds (in our play, he vows not to speak court languages for six years - not his entire life).
The kings sankrit is polished and fluent. Gunadhaya's is a bit rusty.
"And you as well Maharaja"
"Its been seven years... I suppose now that your vow of not speaking the court languages is over, you're happy to be back? We could use your wisdom amongst us here"
"Maharaja, where is the Queen?"
"She died 3 years ago."
Satavahana briefly thinks about the fact that she figured out that this was all a sham, and rarely if ever spoke to him again after Gunadhaya went into exile. Both for decieving her, and makign her loose a dear friend.
"Even though I learned Sanskrit, she just... stopped talking to me after a while. I never completely understood her. "
"But Gunadhaya, " he switches...
"Its truly good to see you. Its been a while since we've had pundits of yours and Sarvarman's calibre in our midsts."
Sarvavarman, of course, died happy and of old age, and the only pundits in the court, are his students, all of whom wield thier knowledge of sanskrit as a tool of superiority and power.
"Whats this you've brought with you. Asks Satavahana.
Pulled out of his distraught shock, of hearing about the Maharani's death. The inability to share with her these amazing stories, his work of the last seven years.. Gunadhaya answers almost mechanically...
"Oh, these, these are stories of your subjects from the hills and forests. I spent the last 7 years documenting them, and collecting them. They are said to be the stories of all these people, and of generations before them, all of whom have collected stories from across the known world. "
He has no use for them now...
"If you would like to take them and share them with the world, please do so."
"Thats impressive!" he indicates to one of his Bhramin pundits to take the seven bundles, each containing a lakh of shlokas in them. The pundit, reluctantly accepts this bundle of smelly blood soaked skin, with strange broad strokes on them...
He enquires with his colleague..
"The script seems somewhat familiar.."
"But the language....?"
Satavahana looks over thier shoulder.
"Paisachi!!"
"Sir? You know this language?!?"
"What? Huh? No. No. " And indicates to have it handed back to Gunadhaya.
Gunadhya, not surprised at the Raja's little revalation, looks at him enquiringly,
"Raja, I know you know the language... I have just spent the past seven years amongst the same tribes you grew up in. These are thier stories."
The Bhramins intercede. "Raja! The court awaits you. The pundits from the neighbouring kingdom have gathered to do discourse In Sanskrit (they emphasise to Gunadhaya) with you. We must not keep visiting dignitaries waiting. "
The Raja hesitates.
"Raja". Presses the Bhramin.
"Gunadhaya, this seems very laudible work, but we only speak Sanskrit in this court, even the other court langugages that were in use during your time are frowned upon. There's no place for something like this in our world. "
Gunadhaya takes the bundles and starts to prepare to leave. While being looked upon with utter malice and spite by the two Bhramins (who by the way were Sarvavarman's consipirators in the plan to oust Gunadhaya in this play).
"Gunadhaya" says the Raja, "Stay, we can have long conversations together, my sanskrit is very good now, you and I can debate in Sanskrit! "
The only person Gunadhaya ever enjoyed debating with in Sanskrit... is dead.
"Raja, there is no place for something like this (pointing at himself) in your world."
They part ways ... though not for the last time.
Gunadhaya returns to the forest. Realising the foolishness of his early years, and the stupid pride he had in court as a Bhramin pundit who only respected sanskrit, distraught about the fact that the person he wanted to share the stories with his long dead, and the only other person who could have read them, so easily chooses to reject such a collossal heritage. (*)
He sees the inevitability of change, and his mind, the fact that it is futile to try to share the stories of kanabhuti's people with a world that woudl not have them.
He sits at a clearing in the middle of the forest, and begins to make a fire.
Kanabhuti seeing his unhappiness... enquires...
"What happenned? how did you end up coming back so soon?"
no reply. as he silently gathers the shlokas near the fire.
"Did you get to share these stories with your friend?"
"She's not here any more."
"Oh.."
"But what are you doing?"
"I'm burning these."
"Why? This is all your work. All the stories that you said you wanted to collect. Why would you burn them?"
"Apart from me, there's no one on this planet who is able or willing to read them. None of your people can read, the concept of reading is alien to them. These shloks I have written have no place in this world."
Kanabhuti's old belief in the power of stories is reaffirmed (*)
"But you can teach my people Paisachi!"
"I am too old now... I don't think I am going to live for much longer. "
Kanabhuti concurrs...
"Stories are best told to each other, not read from a book."
"Gunadhaya! Before you burn them, at least, read them out loud to me one last time."
Gunadhaya thinks...
Then he starts to read...
As he reads each page to Kanabhuti, he then consigns it to the flames...
Slowly, as he continues to do this, story by story, the actors playing tribals (all 16 of them) who have gathered in a Kollatta dance in a circle around him, only humming the tunes of the stories... , start to dissapear in the smoke of his fire, pair by pair. Until it is only him, and Kanabhuti left... and the flames, and the smoke, and an empty stage...
(*) Both of them. This is the central reason for Gunadhaya burning the stories. Its still... - not brilliant, in my mind. He's ot a likeable protagonist given that he ended up bieng so
-------------
"What?? Cries the queen! SOMDEVA, tell me he burt all the stories!"
"Wait my Queen, I haven't finished."
-------------------
Somdeva continues to read..
(He reads the following passage from From Tawney's translation... with the bit about Shiva and Ganas as its his story to tell now...)
And while he was reading out and
burning that heavenly tale, all the deer, boars, buffaloes
and other wild animals came there, leaving their pasturage,
and formed a circle round him, listening with tears in their
eyes, unable to quit the spot.
In the meanwhile King Satavahana fell sick. And the
physicians said that his illness was due to eating meat wanting
in nutritive qualities. And when the cooks were scolded
for it they said :
" The hunters bring in to us flesh of this
kind." And when the hunters were taken to task they said :
"Ona hill not very far from here there is a Brahman reading,
who throws into a fire every leaf as soon as he has read it ; so
all the animals go there and listen, without ever grazing ; they
never wander anywhere else ; consequently this flesh of theirs
is wanting in nutritive properties on account of their going
without food." When he heard this speech of the hunters
he made them show him the way, and out of curiosity went
in person to see Gunadhya, and he beheld him, owing to his
forest life, overspread with matted locks that looked like the
smoke of the fire of his curse, that was almost extinguished
Then the king recognised him as he stood in the midst
of the weeping animals, and after he had respectfully saluted
him, he asked him for an explanation of all the circumstances.
That wise Brahman then related to the king in the
language of the demons his own history as Pushpadanta,
giving an account of the curse and all the circumstances
which originated the descent of the tale to earth. Then the
king, discovering that he was an incarnation of a Gana,
bowed at his feet, and asked him for that celestial tale that
had issued from the mouth of Siva. Then Gunadhya said
to that King Satavahana :
tc O king ! I have burnt six tales
containing six hundred thousand couplets ; but there is one
tale consisting of a hundred thousand couplets, take that,1
and these two pupils of mine shall explain it to you." So
spake Gunadhya and took leave of the king, and then by
strength of devotion laid aside his earthly body and, released
from the curse, ascended to his own heavenly home. Then the
king took that tale which Gunadhya had given, called Brihat
Kathd, containing the adventures of Naravahanadatta, and
went to his own city. And there he bestowed on Gunadeva
and Nandideva, the pupils of the poet who composed that tale,
lands, gold, garments, beasts of burden, palaces and treasures.
And having recovered the sense of that tale with their help,
Satavahana composed the book named Kathapitha, in order
to show how the tale came to be first made known in the
Paisacha language. Now that tale was so full of various
interest that men were so taken with it as to forget the tales
of the gods, and after producing that effect in the city it
attained uninterrupted renown in the three worlds."
Somdeva continues...
"Queen, (I think her name was Suryamati- no time to go back and check now.. ) I have found these documents from the court of Satavahana, from over 200 years ago, and have adapted and compiled them for your entertainment - in Sanskrit. I call this, the Kathasaritsagar"
Monday, December 15, 2008
Scaring myself Silly.
What a fright!
You know that moment where you look down into a deep dark well, or a deep dark tunnel, and you can't see the end. You shout into it, expecting to hear your echo... but somewhere, there's always a little fear, that something apart from your own voice, will shout back.
I blog in the vast anonymity of the internet. Even with facebook pointers, and gtalk status messages pointing to it, I honestly hadn't really expected that anyone would bother to click. So when I put up my facebook status to say.
"Jehan is now thinking that blogging and directing together is very difficult."
I got a bit of a start when I -- got comments back to say keep blogging!
Its hard. Especially now when many things are coming together, and my focus is sucked into making the final production - which is actually a work in progress - given that this is a first draft of a story about Gunadhaya anyway.
Yes yes, you'll get part 4 when I get part 4. We're a few days from run, and i still haven't figured out the last two scenes because i need to go back over the whole play, the story, see how the ideas that have been built into the story coalesce and work the final moments of the play from there. Ultimately - as one of my great mentors would say - no matter what you present in the story, if you get the ending right... people will remember it.
So.. making sure that's right even though the first show is dayafter.
But its difficult.
In the meanwhile, the students have been made to go through a very long and tough exercise, especially since I have been very VERY particular about getting it right. They work through each scene, line by line, moment by moment, and they state what happenned that changes thier objective, state thier objective one small sentence, I do XXXXXXXX to that/him/her/myself and the XXXXXX has to be a playable action, a verb that they can DO on stage. Coming up for the word for "transative verb" in Kannadda was difficult. We settled on "Verb with Purpose" Karaya Kriya. But its innacurate.
However, having gone thourgh act 1 (took 2 days) and now act 2 - the results are strong. They still need to connect thier stated objective with what they do better, but that will come. On my part, it takes a GREAT DEAL OF PATIENCE. But it works. Oh, and them stating thier reasons for objective change, and then thier objective, OUT LOUD, in Kannadda? I'm very happy to say that I've begun to tell what the verbs in kannada sound like. Its interesting, I have to also catch everytime they say "I TELL so and so about such and such." Telling is not allowed, the entier play could be I tell so and so about such and such.
Anyhow, the pressure has been building on them by me. That coupled with a moment, where afteer a long day, I found myself trying to explain to the cast how one actress, with a small supporting part, has successfully articulated every single objective of hers and connected it to what she does on stage, and was encouraging the rest to use it as an example. It was an important point, I wanted the actors to step up to the challenge.
One of the actors, responded to her, "well done, well done" he was trying to crack a joke, and be a bit faecetious...
It was so out of place and out of order, and was symptomatic of an endemic problem i have with them in my rehearsals:
I try to direct them, as professionals.
Expect professional behaviour from them.
Run things with a please and a thank you and a light joke here and there.
I don't try to be thier schoolmaster
I don't try to enforce a regime in the rehearsal room.
The expectation is you are actors, working on a project, training in professionalism, you will do this yourselves.
(Ah - but jehan, they're TRAINING)
So they are students, and sometimes, one has to treat them as such.
- It was once said to me by people here early in the process, at one level, while they are adults, and work towards it, they can behave like children, its part of the indian condition where we're all brought up under dictatorial school masters and not expected to discipline ourselves, but be disciplined by a strong authority figure.
As much as I hope that we can transcend this conditioning of ours from our school days, I have to say. At this point, I very much embraced that philosophy.
.... "I beg your pardon" (wait for translation)
"no nothing sir"
"why say that then? what is the point of it" (wait for translatoin)
"I was just being complimentary, she's like a sister to me I was encouraging her." (I wait for translation)
"Is that what you're here to do?" (Trans)
"No sir" suddenly realising i was serious.
"I'm trying to make a point here that all the actors need to get. I want them to take a moment for this to sink in, how is that going to happen, if they first have to absorb your wise ass moment?" (wil they translate wise ass? no, but I think the message gets across.)
"Sorry sir" muffleed silence, breaths, looks here and there...
Is about when I lost it.
And I mean, LOST IT.
I really went for them, in a way they haven't seen before, and I have rarely every been before. I was PISSED OFF and I RAGED AT THEM LOUD< SCREAMING< ONE POINT AFTER THE NEXT.
The best bit though, was that while I was RAGING at them, A bit of me was standing outside myself, and saying to myself, 'come on J, you've got more in you than that'
and the second, the millli second i thought that...
i found my lungs, voice and general size of tyrant increasing by a factor of ten. I WENT BALLISTIC!!!
Stunned, shocked silence, and not loosing a moment of that opportunity I sunk it every thought i had on what minimum standards was expected. They were listening to every screaming thought I had. Talk about getting through to people.
IN a rage I even explained why i was raging.
Made them all step back, take a moment to breath, told them to drop the emotions they were feeling with the raging, think about what it is they are here - on my stage - in my rehearsal, to learn and do. After 5 minutes, of them standing, silently with themselves, breathing, and haivng made personal decisions about how they were going to approach thigns. Rehearsal started.
I went back to directorial normal - silently exhausted inside.
I got the best 20 mintues of rehearsal i have had with them so far. Ideas flew thick and fast, creativity worked, peopel were trying to MAKE THE STORY WORK.
Then of course, something wasn't working out with one moment, and one of my actors, in an effort to get it right, and failing, lost it, and broke down.
"TEA BREAK PEOPLE LETS GO."
It took every iota of restraint in me to stop myself from going to her and making her feel better. My gut said. Not my place. She needs to sort this one out on her own.
After tea, i couldn't resist, i went to her to talk it through.
"Whats wrong"
"Nothing sir, I'll handle it."
"You ready to work?"
"YES sir."
I had an evening rehearsal which was nothing short of brilliant, and it was a group scene, the worst kind, and everyone was one huge web of performance energy.
Talk about scaring myself silly, I guess I'm the one who learned something new today.
You know that moment where you look down into a deep dark well, or a deep dark tunnel, and you can't see the end. You shout into it, expecting to hear your echo... but somewhere, there's always a little fear, that something apart from your own voice, will shout back.
I blog in the vast anonymity of the internet. Even with facebook pointers, and gtalk status messages pointing to it, I honestly hadn't really expected that anyone would bother to click. So when I put up my facebook status to say.
"Jehan is now thinking that blogging and directing together is very difficult."
I got a bit of a start when I -- got comments back to say keep blogging!
Its hard. Especially now when many things are coming together, and my focus is sucked into making the final production - which is actually a work in progress - given that this is a first draft of a story about Gunadhaya anyway.
Yes yes, you'll get part 4 when I get part 4. We're a few days from run, and i still haven't figured out the last two scenes because i need to go back over the whole play, the story, see how the ideas that have been built into the story coalesce and work the final moments of the play from there. Ultimately - as one of my great mentors would say - no matter what you present in the story, if you get the ending right... people will remember it.
So.. making sure that's right even though the first show is dayafter.
But its difficult.
In the meanwhile, the students have been made to go through a very long and tough exercise, especially since I have been very VERY particular about getting it right. They work through each scene, line by line, moment by moment, and they state what happenned that changes thier objective, state thier objective one small sentence, I do XXXXXXXX to that/him/her/myself and the XXXXXX has to be a playable action, a verb that they can DO on stage. Coming up for the word for "transative verb" in Kannadda was difficult. We settled on "Verb with Purpose" Karaya Kriya. But its innacurate.
However, having gone thourgh act 1 (took 2 days) and now act 2 - the results are strong. They still need to connect thier stated objective with what they do better, but that will come. On my part, it takes a GREAT DEAL OF PATIENCE. But it works. Oh, and them stating thier reasons for objective change, and then thier objective, OUT LOUD, in Kannadda? I'm very happy to say that I've begun to tell what the verbs in kannada sound like. Its interesting, I have to also catch everytime they say "I TELL so and so about such and such." Telling is not allowed, the entier play could be I tell so and so about such and such.
Anyhow, the pressure has been building on them by me. That coupled with a moment, where afteer a long day, I found myself trying to explain to the cast how one actress, with a small supporting part, has successfully articulated every single objective of hers and connected it to what she does on stage, and was encouraging the rest to use it as an example. It was an important point, I wanted the actors to step up to the challenge.
One of the actors, responded to her, "well done, well done" he was trying to crack a joke, and be a bit faecetious...
It was so out of place and out of order, and was symptomatic of an endemic problem i have with them in my rehearsals:
I try to direct them, as professionals.
Expect professional behaviour from them.
Run things with a please and a thank you and a light joke here and there.
I don't try to be thier schoolmaster
I don't try to enforce a regime in the rehearsal room.
The expectation is you are actors, working on a project, training in professionalism, you will do this yourselves.
(Ah - but jehan, they're TRAINING)
So they are students, and sometimes, one has to treat them as such.
- It was once said to me by people here early in the process, at one level, while they are adults, and work towards it, they can behave like children, its part of the indian condition where we're all brought up under dictatorial school masters and not expected to discipline ourselves, but be disciplined by a strong authority figure.
As much as I hope that we can transcend this conditioning of ours from our school days, I have to say. At this point, I very much embraced that philosophy.
.... "I beg your pardon" (wait for translation)
"no nothing sir"
"why say that then? what is the point of it" (wait for translatoin)
"I was just being complimentary, she's like a sister to me I was encouraging her." (I wait for translation)
"Is that what you're here to do?" (Trans)
"No sir" suddenly realising i was serious.
"I'm trying to make a point here that all the actors need to get. I want them to take a moment for this to sink in, how is that going to happen, if they first have to absorb your wise ass moment?" (wil they translate wise ass? no, but I think the message gets across.)
"Sorry sir" muffleed silence, breaths, looks here and there...
Is about when I lost it.
And I mean, LOST IT.
I really went for them, in a way they haven't seen before, and I have rarely every been before. I was PISSED OFF and I RAGED AT THEM LOUD< SCREAMING< ONE POINT AFTER THE NEXT.
The best bit though, was that while I was RAGING at them, A bit of me was standing outside myself, and saying to myself, 'come on J, you've got more in you than that'
and the second, the millli second i thought that...
i found my lungs, voice and general size of tyrant increasing by a factor of ten. I WENT BALLISTIC!!!
Stunned, shocked silence, and not loosing a moment of that opportunity I sunk it every thought i had on what minimum standards was expected. They were listening to every screaming thought I had. Talk about getting through to people.
IN a rage I even explained why i was raging.
Made them all step back, take a moment to breath, told them to drop the emotions they were feeling with the raging, think about what it is they are here - on my stage - in my rehearsal, to learn and do. After 5 minutes, of them standing, silently with themselves, breathing, and haivng made personal decisions about how they were going to approach thigns. Rehearsal started.
I went back to directorial normal - silently exhausted inside.
I got the best 20 mintues of rehearsal i have had with them so far. Ideas flew thick and fast, creativity worked, peopel were trying to MAKE THE STORY WORK.
Then of course, something wasn't working out with one moment, and one of my actors, in an effort to get it right, and failing, lost it, and broke down.
"TEA BREAK PEOPLE LETS GO."
It took every iota of restraint in me to stop myself from going to her and making her feel better. My gut said. Not my place. She needs to sort this one out on her own.
After tea, i couldn't resist, i went to her to talk it through.
"Whats wrong"
"Nothing sir, I'll handle it."
"You ready to work?"
"YES sir."
I had an evening rehearsal which was nothing short of brilliant, and it was a group scene, the worst kind, and everyone was one huge web of performance energy.
Talk about scaring myself silly, I guess I'm the one who learned something new today.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Revalations...
What WAS that?
I think I was possessed for a bit today. On barely any sleep, and with this feeling of needing to get to the end of this play I forged ahead in the three sessions we had today and by halfway through the third session had reached - yes, you guessed it. The end of the play!
Exhausted, I told my cast (who had to come along for the mad whirlwind ride) that we were done, and could resume tomorrow.
"Lets RUN IT" said they.
Ok! Lets run it, I sat back, promised myself - and good boy that I was kept my promise - not to stop the run for any reason. IF they wanted to, they could, but I would sit back and watch it.
I first of all was entirely and utterly shocked that we managed to get to 'run' the second act today. I did not think it would happen any earlier that tomorrow afternoon.
So first I'm just shocked at me for managing in this fit of delirium, to pull this off.
But then, I sat back and watched.
Here's what struck me. In my effort to get to the end of the play - I feel like the second act seems to be infected with that directorial desire of mine. It runs to the end of the play. Three nice large musical numbers, one introducing the tribes, the second helping Gunadhaya learn their ways and language (which is ultimately what this play is about), and third, the writing of stories, all work. But ... there's no serious respite. I feel like the 7 years that I have just staged, goes by way too fast.
So now I guess I have to figure out where to put the brakes. Give the audience a moment to take it all in. I realise something about the way I direct. I like to give more than one piece of information at the same time, layer a scene so that 10 things are going on, and you have to stay alert to catch them. But If I can't take them all in while watching it as a director... how is my audience going to deal with this? Its like, I'm creating a play that is meant to be watched more than once. So I suppose breaking it up a bit is going to help, highlighting one significant moment to another, and stringing them out consecutively rather than simultaneously presenting them... OH The work!
I also think that given that we have written this as we go from scene to scene, keeping just a root structure in place and then devising accordingly, that there's been little room for character growth in some cases. Everyone of my actors know who thier charachter is, and has managed to create rather full stories for themselves that have helped them figure out thier journies through each scene (and helped me massively to actually write the play as we go along on our feet), but no space for how they react to the idea that the stories will be destroyed.
In part I think its probably that I haven't managed to significantly rationalize Gunadhaya's choice. Yet. Its interesting, the two actors playing Gunadhaya in the first and second act seem to have no agency, things are done to them, or they just respond to that which transpires around them. The actors playing them have been asked - for now - to just keep themselves, neutral, open to the events that happen to them. The character goes through the motions, the actors bear silent witness to see how they end up responding, what thier urges are. Going back to the source text for the adaptation, Tawney's Kathasaritsagar, I still can't find any significant drive in these charachters, which I suppose was the reason I wanted to explore it in the first place. What could posess a man to do what he did.
Partly because I don't know how to deal with this choice? Or could it be that there is nothing I can think of, nothign that strikes me - yet - from all the work we've created that could be the spark for a reason for him to commit what I constantly think of as a MAD MAD act.
Apart from his love for the queen. Which at one level, seems exactly the reason why he would destroy it, it makes sense. But its such an ... easy out from the problem.
I think its time for the final installment of Gunadhaya's story. As confounding as it feels to me right now, I like that suddenly I am wracked - in rehearsal - with the very issue that made me want to explore the play in the first place.
So things for me to think about in this structure.
1) Easing up the pace here and there and letting the play and audience breathe.
2) Working on why Gunadhaya would do what he did in search for further clarity.
3) I think developing the actors playing his charachter into thier full living breathing charachters to see what we discover from them now that we've put the other events in play.
-----------
On another note, had a very intense moment with a young actor who plays a key part in the second half of the play. He's a born performer and entertainer, and uses it all the time to do things. But it gets in the way of his acting. So today starting when he sat down at the same table for breakfast, I introduced him to the notion of dropping his performance mask and seeing what lies beneath it. I joked about it then, we're going to drop the characther that is Rahul (his name, changed) and see if we can find the actor lying beneath.
In my various dealings with the language, and working with circles of concentration, and the idea of existing in a nil/null space. I just said.. we're going to find the shunya actor. the Nil / null / zero actor in you today. I spent the whole day getting him to 'do nothing' just mechanically perform everything. Invest nothing in it, ESPECIALLY not his performer persona. I was pretty hard on forcing him to stay away from that.
after a while of me insisting and stopping rehearsals every few seconds to not let him revert to form.. he started to get it. I kept pushing, insisting. He started to find things, other responses that crept up on him now that he was just doing, and listening, and not investing or premeditating, or reverting back to his safe ground of 'entertaining' us. He got it, it worked, he started to be in the moment, the mechanics kept him on course, and in a place where he could just stay open to what other characthres were saying and doing, and i think that was a whole new sensation for him which he didn't know how to compute. I think it was a bit too much to take in. He kind of lost it on stage, and after some comforting by me, assuring him that a) he was getting it, and b) me asking him to put his performer persona on hold was not me 'not liking or hating him' etc. It was all better. I felt so bad for taking him to that point, but I really think its helped.
Guess I discovered tough love today.
Post the final part of Gunadhaya's story tomorrow.
I think I was possessed for a bit today. On barely any sleep, and with this feeling of needing to get to the end of this play I forged ahead in the three sessions we had today and by halfway through the third session had reached - yes, you guessed it. The end of the play!
Exhausted, I told my cast (who had to come along for the mad whirlwind ride) that we were done, and could resume tomorrow.
"Lets RUN IT" said they.
Ok! Lets run it, I sat back, promised myself - and good boy that I was kept my promise - not to stop the run for any reason. IF they wanted to, they could, but I would sit back and watch it.
I first of all was entirely and utterly shocked that we managed to get to 'run' the second act today. I did not think it would happen any earlier that tomorrow afternoon.
So first I'm just shocked at me for managing in this fit of delirium, to pull this off.
But then, I sat back and watched.
Here's what struck me. In my effort to get to the end of the play - I feel like the second act seems to be infected with that directorial desire of mine. It runs to the end of the play. Three nice large musical numbers, one introducing the tribes, the second helping Gunadhaya learn their ways and language (which is ultimately what this play is about), and third, the writing of stories, all work. But ... there's no serious respite. I feel like the 7 years that I have just staged, goes by way too fast.
So now I guess I have to figure out where to put the brakes. Give the audience a moment to take it all in. I realise something about the way I direct. I like to give more than one piece of information at the same time, layer a scene so that 10 things are going on, and you have to stay alert to catch them. But If I can't take them all in while watching it as a director... how is my audience going to deal with this? Its like, I'm creating a play that is meant to be watched more than once. So I suppose breaking it up a bit is going to help, highlighting one significant moment to another, and stringing them out consecutively rather than simultaneously presenting them... OH The work!
I also think that given that we have written this as we go from scene to scene, keeping just a root structure in place and then devising accordingly, that there's been little room for character growth in some cases. Everyone of my actors know who thier charachter is, and has managed to create rather full stories for themselves that have helped them figure out thier journies through each scene (and helped me massively to actually write the play as we go along on our feet), but no space for how they react to the idea that the stories will be destroyed.
In part I think its probably that I haven't managed to significantly rationalize Gunadhaya's choice. Yet. Its interesting, the two actors playing Gunadhaya in the first and second act seem to have no agency, things are done to them, or they just respond to that which transpires around them. The actors playing them have been asked - for now - to just keep themselves, neutral, open to the events that happen to them. The character goes through the motions, the actors bear silent witness to see how they end up responding, what thier urges are. Going back to the source text for the adaptation, Tawney's Kathasaritsagar, I still can't find any significant drive in these charachters, which I suppose was the reason I wanted to explore it in the first place. What could posess a man to do what he did.
Partly because I don't know how to deal with this choice? Or could it be that there is nothing I can think of, nothign that strikes me - yet - from all the work we've created that could be the spark for a reason for him to commit what I constantly think of as a MAD MAD act.
Apart from his love for the queen. Which at one level, seems exactly the reason why he would destroy it, it makes sense. But its such an ... easy out from the problem.
I think its time for the final installment of Gunadhaya's story. As confounding as it feels to me right now, I like that suddenly I am wracked - in rehearsal - with the very issue that made me want to explore the play in the first place.
So things for me to think about in this structure.
1) Easing up the pace here and there and letting the play and audience breathe.
2) Working on why Gunadhaya would do what he did in search for further clarity.
3) I think developing the actors playing his charachter into thier full living breathing charachters to see what we discover from them now that we've put the other events in play.
-----------
On another note, had a very intense moment with a young actor who plays a key part in the second half of the play. He's a born performer and entertainer, and uses it all the time to do things. But it gets in the way of his acting. So today starting when he sat down at the same table for breakfast, I introduced him to the notion of dropping his performance mask and seeing what lies beneath it. I joked about it then, we're going to drop the characther that is Rahul (his name, changed) and see if we can find the actor lying beneath.
In my various dealings with the language, and working with circles of concentration, and the idea of existing in a nil/null space. I just said.. we're going to find the shunya actor. the Nil / null / zero actor in you today. I spent the whole day getting him to 'do nothing' just mechanically perform everything. Invest nothing in it, ESPECIALLY not his performer persona. I was pretty hard on forcing him to stay away from that.
after a while of me insisting and stopping rehearsals every few seconds to not let him revert to form.. he started to get it. I kept pushing, insisting. He started to find things, other responses that crept up on him now that he was just doing, and listening, and not investing or premeditating, or reverting back to his safe ground of 'entertaining' us. He got it, it worked, he started to be in the moment, the mechanics kept him on course, and in a place where he could just stay open to what other characthres were saying and doing, and i think that was a whole new sensation for him which he didn't know how to compute. I think it was a bit too much to take in. He kind of lost it on stage, and after some comforting by me, assuring him that a) he was getting it, and b) me asking him to put his performer persona on hold was not me 'not liking or hating him' etc. It was all better. I felt so bad for taking him to that point, but I really think its helped.
Guess I discovered tough love today.
Post the final part of Gunadhaya's story tomorrow.
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